<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Miles to go before we sleep by Pilandok</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442060">Miles to go before we sleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilandok/pseuds/Pilandok'>Pilandok</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead To Me (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Mild Smut, Soft apocalypse AU, cafe au if you squint, domestic? fluff, episodic, immortality AU, nonlinear, some pondering about the universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:20:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilandok/pseuds/Pilandok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from Jen and Judy's life as they navigate a world that ended-- not with a bang nor a whimper, but a peaceful, unresisting passing. </p>
<p>What does Judy want to do in the midst of the apocalypse? Open a café, of course.</p>
<p>(A proofread compilation of the my Jen x Judy soft apocalypse/immortality AU thread on Twitter.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Judy Hale/Jen Harding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Miles to go before we sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is basically just a compilation of the tweets from my Jen x Judy soft apocalypse/immortality AU. Edited very slightly for spelling/grammar/diction issues and posted for posterity.</p>
<p>The thread (it has visuals!): https://twitter.com/aprilopenmybill/status/1320647959512399872</p>
<p>Will probably be compiling every ten tweets into a chapter. It'd essentially the same as the thread, so you don't have to read this. But, if you choose to, please enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy is in her element, predictably so, she’s always known how to live alongside these fragile life forms, knows how to cultivate them, to have a symbiotic relationship. <em>The universe loves to take care of you— </em>Jen threw that back at her once, before, resentfully. But Judy was much less a spoiled child of causality and more an expert negotiator with the fates. Luck is a skill, Jen realized, but it’s one that’s refined in kindness. Jen’s never really made it a habit to ask for things from the universe, but only because she couldn’t promise to love it in return.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Jen looks at Judy, breathing easy on their bed in their small shack in the middle of a city that’s long been reclaimed by the greater flora of the area. Jen’s always preferred the bustle of a metropolitan, surrounded by things easily manipulated by people (it’s a very complicated love-hate relationship with humanity, okay?), but nothing has felt like home as much as this. Nothing as much as being beside Judy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why the hell would we open up a café in the middle of nowhere?” Jen asks, wondering how she can still say things that surprise her after all this time. “We go months without seeing anyone, <em>years</em> even.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>That’s</em> why,” Judy exclaims, a grin on her face that says she knows that this argument is just a formality, that’s she’s all but won Jen over for all eternity. “Wouldn’t it be great if we can offer them coffee? Maybe even a pie?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen sighs, shaking her head, then realizing something, she narrows her eyes at Judy who’s looking at her innocently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait, does this mean I have to look for an oven?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Or we can build one!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do I even—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We, can figure it out,” Judy says, lacing her fingers with Jen’s. “We always do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen pushes her head into their hand-sewn pillow, groaning, but she brings the back of Judy’s hand to her lips so she can give it a kiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I miss when Google was a thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>2.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on, Jen,” Judy says, pulling at her hand, leading her through the thick foliage of the forest floor. “Don’t you think it’s amazing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Jen waves her off, feeling the hard ground through her shoes. It’s all covered in green now, a lush, mossed base, but she can tell that underneath is a layer of asphalt, relics of a bygone civilization, of road-usage. “You don’t have to <em>ooh</em> and <em>aah</em> at every cute little house falling apart.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But look at how nature is taking it all back!” Of course Judy has to look at every moldy joint of the building, touch every crack on the wall where a tiny leaf is beginning to unfurl, bask in every ray of sunlight that peak through the holes in the roof.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re gonna get tetanus at this rate,” Jen tells her even though she doesn’t know if that’s something they <em>could</em> get at this point. “And I’m not gonna figure out how to make a fucking vaccine for you, Jude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’d really have to focus.” Judy muses. She tilts her head at Jen, a full-toothed grin on her face. “So you’re over it? <em>Too cool for school?</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen rolls her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m just saying,” she starts, “you’ve seen one dilapidated auto repair shop, you’ve seen them all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe,” Judy replies, moving closer to Jen, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her head on her chest. Her voice a little softer, she continues, “I just wanted to visit this place again. You know, before it disappears completely.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hm?” Jen hums, surprised. “You’ve been here before?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Judy says, a little solemnly. “You, too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” Jen says, looking around the interior of the building, waiting for a veil to be lifted from her eyes, a memory in her brain to be tapped. “I’m sorry, Judy. I— I can’t remember.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Judy lifts her head up to look at Jen. “I’m kind of glad you can forget. It wasn’t really the happiest of times.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I don’t want you to remember bad things on your own.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Judy says and she looks like she means it, “I think it’s just that you think more about the present than the past. And you think about me and our everyday life more than anything. You love me so much, you don’t have space for much else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jeez, flatter yourself, would you?” Jen jokes even though she thinks that it’s probably true. She bends her head down to gently catch Judy’s lips with hers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They walk through the rest of the hidden road hand-in-hand and Judy points out what kind of buildings the clustered masses of plants used to be: a police station, a restaurant, a chapel. It doesn’t stir anything in Jen but she indulges fully in the feeling of Judy’s palms pressed against hers, of their shoulders touching each other, of the sound of her laughter tickling her ears. Of the promise that they can do this over and over and over again until the world ends and the sun swallows them whole. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>3.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want to go home,” Jen tells Judy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Judys asks then gestures toward the tiny house they’ve been camping next to for the past three nights. “Aren’t we going to wait for whoever lives here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen is willing to, time is something you can afford to waste if you’re just waiting for it to end. Also, she knows how much Judy loves meeting people, and on the rare occasions they stumble upon an active settlement, something that hasn’t yet been eroded by decades of disuse (or <em>reclaimed</em>, as Judy would say), Jen would follow Judy’s lead. They would wait for the warm bodies to show up, which can take days, if they were human, or years, if they were like <em>them</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But their earlier conversation on the road has put the insecurity of forgetting on Jen’s mind and she realized there was someone she can’t afford to do that to yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eh, it’s nicely built,” Jen says knocking on one of the wooden panels, “but ours is better.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy stares at her for a second, her eyes deep, warm, loving, and <em>understanding</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re right” she says, smiling like she knows. Of course she does. “Let’s go home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s probably some sort of serendipitous cosmic working that when they do get home, he’s waiting for them at the small patio of the café.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Our first customer of the day!” Judy squeals and rushes over to him, giving him a tight hug. “Look at you, so tall and handsome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you guys haven’t aged a day,” Charlie laughs. “Of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jen hums, giving him a wink. She begins opening up the shop, glad that she didn’t skimp on the materials when she built it so it could last a few years of neglect. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How long did you wait for us?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A few days. About four,” he says following them through the door. “I was supposed to give up last night but I figured one more couldn’t hurt. <em>And</em> it sure didn’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen watches Charlie as he moves expertly in the kitchen, helping Judy wipe the dust off the different coffee-making paraphernalia. He’s much taller than Judy now, his shoulders wide and steady. Jen remembers the little boy he used to be when they stumbled upon him in the woods decades ago and they found out that a small group of humans have settled nearby. They quickly became their regular customers and Charlie was the youngest one. Or, he was more like an apprentice with how much he liked helping around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oddly enough, it was Jen he had grown attached to and it might have something to do with those days after his father died, how she would help him pass that time by teaching him the various skills she picked up on millennia of living. A few of which were survival tricks in the woods, shit-talking, and yes, building an oven. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>He’s your son, alright</em>, Judy told her once when Charlie was cussing out a rare rude customer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Four days? Don’t make your girlfriend unhappy,” Judy scolds jokingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I have wife now, actually,” Charlie laughs, a little shyly. “We have a kid, too. A daughter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Char</em>,” Jen gasps and he turns to look at her. She forgets sometimes, how time can be deceptively fast, and she sees the hints of age at the corners of his eyes, on the stubble on his jaw. The last time she saw him he was just starting fresh as an adult, having shaken off the moodiness of his teenage years but keeping the strong emotions of youth. It’s all but calmed down now, inside of him, but it looks like years well spent. “Come here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen hugs him and Charlie sighs easily. She wonders how many times over the years he’s waited for them for ‘a few days’ on an empty house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We would love to meet them, your family,” Judy says when she’s finished making the coffee, setting the French press on the table and following it with three cups.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yeah, actually,” Charlie says, releasing Jen from his hold, “the old folks basically sent me here on recon. I mean, they’re getting a little desperate for those beans.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy sticks her tongue out, “oh they’ll never get through Jen’s locks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Charlie grins, “I don’t doubt it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They continue their talk, the both of them graciously not calling attention to Jen’s silent tears as she listens to them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After Charlie has left, with the promise to bring his wife and kid over after a few days, Jen turns to Judy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jude, I—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, baby, I know,” Judy tells her softly. “Looks like we’re staying here for a while.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Jen almost follows up with <em>just for a few decades until Charlie— until he... </em>But it’s a train of thought that she never wants to complete.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>4.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen thinks she likes it best like this. With the light from the sunrise peeking through their window just right— Judy was very particular about that positioning, and thank god she was because now Jen can see how the beads of sweat sparkle like crystals as they slide across Judy’s forehead. She can see the lines of Judy’s body as it trembles under her touch. She can see the warm glow on her face as Judy opens her mouth slightly to let out a small gasp, the only sound she can afford as she comes on Jen’s hand during this slow, languid morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Jen pulls out, she looks at her hand, freshly soaked by Judy, sees the moisture clearly as it reflects the sunlight. Judy grabs her by the wrist, bringing the digits into her mouth, and takes her tongue along the length of Jen’s fingers, teeth grazing the bend of her knuckles. She does it slowly like how Jen just fucked her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy releases Jen’s hand from her grip, letting the fingers slide out of her mouth. Her eyes flutter close, and she breathes easy as she licks her lips purposefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>God</em>, Jen could just look at her like this forever. And she can hardly believe that it’s actually possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good morning,” Judy says, opening her eyes again to look at Jen, a lazy smile stretching across her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good morning to you, too,” Jen answers, rolling off of Judy to lay beside her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It really is,” Judy answers before reaching over to give Jen a long, lingering kiss. “I kinda wanna sleep in, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen chuckles softly at the idea, as if they even have a schedule to keep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Want me to wake you up again?” Jen says, as she pushes her hand against Judy’s breast, the pad of her thumb grazing back and forth on a nipple.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mhm,” Judy hums contentedly. “Only for every day of my fucking life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>5.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jen, I found it!” Judy exclaims from across the room, her voice echoing through the gap between the toppled shelves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah?” Jen responds absentmindedly, flipping through the book on her lap, hoping that whatever was salvaged from water damage and termite infestation will have what she’s looking for. It seems a little hopeless, though, and the tiny words and diagrams are starting to give her a headache. She isn’t even sure if she’s holding an engineering book, with the cover having faded completely. Hopefully it’s at least a physics one, or maybe chemistry. Or thermodynamics for dummies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look,” Judy says, having already walked to where she’s sitting cross-legged by the shelf. Jen looks up and she sees the wide smile on her face as she holds out a book proudly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>The Art of the Kama Sutra</em>,” Jen reads slowly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Great find, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought you were looking for baking recipes?” Jen asks, raising her eyebrows. Although she does think that it’s actually kind of impressive how good a condition it‘s in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There are <em>illustrations</em>, Jen!” Judy presses, flipping through the pages and <em>wow</em>, yeah, there are.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mhm, okay,” Jen responds, returning to her skimming.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy huffs at her disinterest but her sulkiness doesn’t last, soon taking a peek at the book that has Jen’s attention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s that?” Judy asks, dropping down on the floor next to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s for the oven.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought we were already good with that?” she asks, running her fingers on the vines that have crawled on the floor of the abandoned library. “You know, just some recycled brick and clay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jen says, not looking up, “But I’m reading up on thermometers. You want to bake, right? Doesn’t that need to be precise and shit?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re going to <em>make</em> a thermometer?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, hopefully I don’t have to,” Jen sighs, closing the book and lifting herself up from the floor to look through the shelves again. “Best case, we find one in the old factory. I just want to know how it works so I can adjust it... or so it doesn’t like, blow up in your face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen feels two arms snake around her waist from behind, squeezing her into a tight hug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You definitely spoil me too much,” Judy murmurs, her cheek pressing on Jen’s back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen turns around in her arms so she can look at Judy who’s staring up at her with a variation of her puppy dog eyes. She can’t help but chuckle softly at the sight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well yeah, there’s not much to do around here,” Jen shrugs. They both know it means more than that, so much more. Some days of eternity feel a lot like forgoing the peace of death for the harrowing uncertainty of being alive. But Jen will choose the undetermined future with Judy every time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I can think if <em>one</em> thing you can do around here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jude,” Jen says, rolling her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you know how else you can spoil me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it Kama Sutra—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kama Sutra!” Judy interrupts her, pulling the book up between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know, Jude,” she teases, but one hand is already squeezing firmly on Judy’s hips. “The drawings seem a little intense.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy nips at her playfully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh <em>you know</em> how flexible I can get.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>These days, Jen asks a lot of questions about the past.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me about before.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Feeling sentimental?” Judy prods as she runs her fingers through the blonde streaks that are splayed out on her lap. They’re at the tail-end of a picnic, having just finished the bread-centered spread that Judy prepared and Jen‘s head rests on Judy’s thighs as she stretches herself out on the blanket. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, I can’t feel sentimental over things I can’t remember,” Jen answers, looking up at Judy whose head is bent down to look at her, blocking the rays of sunlight that filter through the trees. Judy can’t see the expression too well on Jen’s face because of her own shadow but she thinks she can take a smart guess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then is it the wine?” Judy asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh <em>that</em> is not wine,” Jen grumbles, a small frown forming on her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It tastes great, though” Judy reassures her, running her thumb on the crease between Jen’s eyebrows, trying to smooth it out. “Don’t worry, babe. You’ll get it right next time.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen stubbornly refuses to be soothed and Judy can’t help but laugh fondly at her, finding it adorable how she still has things she can be impatient about even as they amble along eternity. She remembers how excited Jen was when a customer traded her a manual on distillation for an extra slice of pie. Jen went to work immediately, building <em>kegs,</em> of all things. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ugh, I hope so. Sorry for wasting all those berries,” Jen says, still looking a bit irritated but has that apologetic tone in her voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy waves her off, “Please, there’s always too much, I had a lot left over for jam.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>”Mm, that was some good jam.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I got some mushrooms, too, while foraging.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You made a great pâté, baby.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy smiles at Jen’s easy compliments and bends further down to kiss her lightly on the lips. It’s a lazy day, like almost all their days, and she’s long stopped worrying if she’ll ever get tired of it. She vaguely recalls a different version of herself, one from eons ago, that was sure that the future can only be so bleak for someone like her, that it can only mean an endless wave of heartache with her inability to control her love. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But now she has Jen to hold her hand as she bares witness to the end of time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy almost wishes that Jen would forget her request, not wanting her to have to relive the worst parts of her life. But she hates the anxious look on her face even more, knows that it’s caused by Charlie’s aging, this insecurity about forgetting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you want to know?” Judy asks, hesitantly, bracing herself. Jen asks some difficult questions sometimes and Judy knows she does because she can’t even conceive the burden that the truth carries. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Were we...?”Jen starts before pausing to take a deep breath. “We were always together like this, right? Even back then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Judy has long learned that some lies are worth more than the weight of the truth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course,” Judy smiles and she means it, along with all the complicated emotions that come with it. “Always.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>7.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen hasn’t gotten a hangover in fucking centuries.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh god. Why did I let you drag me out here?” Jen asks, eyes squinting at the harsh daylight. Her head is aching sharply on one corner of her brain and the pain echoes in low throbs throughout her skull.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because I have a surprise for you,” Judy says leading the way through the dense thicket of overgrowth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Couldn’t the surprise have been an aspirin?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An <em>aspirin</em>,” Judy sighs fondly. “Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, but sometimes I miss the over-the-counter stuff...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Judy</em>,” Jen says in a mock-gasp. “<em>Nature</em> <em>provides</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She playfully shoves Jen’s shoulders, which is nothing unusual for Jen, but in her post-drunken state, is enough to throw her off-balance and hurtling towards the tall grass. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jen!” Judy shouts, weaving through the grass to come after her. “I’m so sorry!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You better be,” Jen grumbles, lying on her back against the foliage that caught her. She stretches a hand out to Judy. “Help me up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course,” Judy says quickly, rushing to bend forward and reach for her. But when Judy grabs her hand, Jen jerks her arm down, sending Judy falling into the patch next to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That kinda hurt, but it’s worth it,” Jen says, laughing slightly. Folding her arm under her head, she turns to wrap the other one around Judy’s waist, bringing her close.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jennn,” Judy whines.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mm?” Jen asks, eyes already fluttering close, the grass more comfortable than she expected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you I had a surprise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here’s mine,” Jen says and she surges forward, pressing her mouth into Judy’s for a kiss. She slips her tongue between Judy’s lips, tasting her, strawberries and mint from their garden. Judy responds enthusiastically, her tongue tracing along Jen’s. She bites her bottom lip before pulling away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not really a surprise, Jen,” she says in a playfully disapproving voice. “That’s kinda your go-to move.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh really?” Jen raises her eyebrows at Judy but the motion ignites a sharp pain on her temple, causing her to wince. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ooh, baby,” Judy coos, gently rubbing Jen’s head. “Why’d you have to drink so much last night?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t believe those old-timers made me use up two kegs,” Jen says, grimacing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay first of all, you’re probably much more of an old-timer than any of those people,” Judy starts, sounding very amused. “Second, you’re the one who wanted to splurge on a belated wedding celebration for Charlie. And lastly, you didn’t <em>have to</em> challenge them to a drinking contest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Says the person who won,” Jen scoffs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well,” Judy shrugs. “It was the only way to get you guys to stop.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re kind of a monster, babe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy laughs, fully and unabashedly, no hint of cynicism in her voice when she says, “So I’ve been told.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>7.5</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy does manage to convince her to continue their trek despite the many attempts of Jen to distract her using her “surprise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jen, <em>stop</em>,” Judy giggles, successfully extracting herself from Jen’s grip. “You have to get up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Have</em> to?” Jen challenges her but Judy knows she’ll relent. She always does.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes!” Judy says, standing. She tries to pull Jen up with her but she’s feigning being asleep. “We don’t have much time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without opening her eyes, Jen quips, “I <em>seriously</em> doubt that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’ll give in, Judy knows, but Jen sure does love making her work for it. She bites her lip, walking a few steps backward from where Jen is lying down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know, we can pass by the stream later,” Judy says suggestively. “I saw a spot with a little waterfall and a nice deep end.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Swimming in our underwear? Is that your tactic?” Jen asks, forearm covering her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Underwear?” Judy asks innocently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen shifts her head, one eye taking a peek from under her arm and Judy laughs as she sees it widen comically. Jen jolts to full attention and Judy is absolutely delighted that she can still elicit this kind of reaction from her, even after all this time, and she does a quick shimmy as she holds the hem of her dress up her shoulders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen chews on her bottom lip for a second, raking her eyes up and down Judy’s exposed body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep, we’re going,” Jen says jumping up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ooh, someone’s eager.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen takes a very firm hold of her hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For you? Always.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>8.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Surprise!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy shit, Jude,” Jen breathes, amazed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right?” she beams, pride blooming in her chest as she watches Jen run her hand on the hood of the car and peek through the windshield to check the interior.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is well-maintained as <em>fuck</em>. Somebody must have taken very good care of it until like a couple of decades ago,” Jen says, trying to move some of the thorny overgrowth out of the way. “Someone like us. Talk about <em>vintage</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy realizes that she hadn’t considered those things, too focused on how absolutely ecstatic Jen would be when she first discovered the car. She tries not to wonder what could have happened for someone to abandon something they had so obviously taken great care of for a very long time. Especially someone like <em>them</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can fix it!” Judy tells her, shaking off the thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Jen asks, having successfully gained access to the front door. “Jude, I don’t even—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course you can,” she answers eagerly. “Didn’t you like, make me a moped practically from scratch before?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, but I mean, there were still <em>roads</em> then,” she says, turning around to look at Judy. “What am I supposed to do with a car?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” Judy says, deflating. She really didn’t think this through.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, come here,” Jen says, sounding apologetic and she pulls on Judy’s hand, turning her slightly so they’re facing each other. “<em>I love it</em>, Jude, I really do. It kind of... makes me understand why you look at all those old buildings.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy’s smile recovers quickly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Right</em>?” she starts, excited as ever. “I don’t know if you remember but back then, almost in the exact same car we—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Of course</em> I remember,” Jen interrupts and Judy’s smile gets bigger. “Craziest road trip of my life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It kinda was.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen twists her head to look back at the car and gives the hood a couple of smacks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe I should fix it,” Jen says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, why not?” Jen shrugs. “If we can’t move it, let’s just leave it here as a date spot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can relive some memories,” Judy murmurs, wrapping her arms around Jen’s neck. She whispers conspiratorially, “like the ones there in the back seat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something wild flashes across Jen’s eyes and Judy finds herself being lifted by the thighs and dropped on the hood of the car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can relive some now,” Jen says leaning over to kiss her on the neck. “We weren’t really picky about where on the car we were going to... make some memories.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy hums in approval as Jen slides her hands up her thighs, under her dress. She lets her head fall back on the hood before remembering something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh wait, wait,” Judy says suddenly, pushing Jen off. “I have another surprise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Jen asks, sounding very annoyed and she lets her teeth graze the skin at the base of Judy’s neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy sighs at the contact but still reaches for her dress pocket to pull out the thing she’s secretly been working on (with Charlie, sometimes, and that will remain a secret from Jen.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>A</em> <em>joint</em>?” Jen laughs. “So much for over-the -counter. We’re dealing with some under-the-table drugs now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not a drug, it’s a <em>plant</em>,” Judy huffs. “And I don’t think it was ever illegal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen rolls her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Now</em>, who’s being forgetful?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>9.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy twirls a finger on a blonde lock of hair, letting it completely wrap around her index before tucking it behind Jen’s ear. It quickly falls back onto Jen’s cheek, a small sliver of obstruction, so Judy takes it in her hand again, absentmindedly going through the same motions for hours. She thinks it’s as good a pastime as any, staring at Jen’s face, even though she’s all but memorized every feature. With some paint and clay, she can probably create an exact model of Jen’s whole head and it would be accurate to the smallest detail, to every pore, to the finest line. She won’t miss a single freckle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still, Judy loves staring at her face, she can do it for a very, very long time. And that’s easily afforded by a resting Jen, whose deep sleep allows for no disturbance, her breathing slow and consistent. Even when Judy runs her hand along Jen’s exposed back, pressing the pads of her fingers on the notches of her spine. She traces each vertebra from her neck, down between her shoulder blades, to her lower back where Judy’s fingers stop when it meets the blanket. Jen is a very heavy sleeper, but that’s okay because it means that Judy can lie down beside her, a few inches away from her face, and have her fill of the sight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It makes her think of forever, in the way that everything is forever. But also in the way that it feels like there are still a few things she’ll miss if she blinks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a period of her life when Jen’s extended slumber made her nervous and she would spend the time pacing the room until she would wake up. Often, Judy would, none-too-gently, call out for her, offering whatever to an unhearing Jen: random favors, odd material things, and impossible promises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now she knows that it’s best to just wait.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen’s eyes twitch slightly before slowly fluttering open. The emerging recognition in her gaze followed by a lazy smile spreading across her face always makes the wait worth it, Judy thinks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi,” Judy greets her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Jen answers, voice groggy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m looking at you like how I always look at you,” she replies simply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen yawns, “Guess I was out for a while.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“About a few months,” Judy tells her, a vague calculation based on how many times she counted the sun rise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen nods slowly, accepting the answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You stayed here the whole time?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More or less,” Judy shrugs. “I did get some drawing done. Just a bit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s good,” Jen says, sighing as Judy returns her hand to rub circles on her back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy never draws Jen as she is, she doesn’t need to, she already has the real thing to look at for eternity. And she thinks she’s rarely successful when she does sketch her, attempting to capture the multitudes of Jen, of how she imagines her to be. But Jen would love it anyway, in the shy kind of way that lets Judy knows she means it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you,” Judy says quietly, almost in a whisper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I knew it,” Jen says, bringing a finger to Judy’s nose to press on it lightly. “I was gone too long.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy bites her lip, “Maybe a little.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen offers an apologetic chuckle before pulling her close.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay to say you were lonely, babe, I’ll make it up to you ten-fold.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy concedes, clinging onto Jen very tightly. Still, she insists, <em>just a little</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>10.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>You’re</em> the one making the coffee?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Judy’s asleep,” Jen explains, lifting the boiling kettle off the fire. “Don’t be so nervous.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well you weren’t really known for your kitchen skills back then,” Perez says and Jen can hear the smirk in her voice. “Nor for your refined palate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Even I can learn a thing or two in a few short millennia,” Jen quips. Having set up the ground beans on a cheese cloth-covered funnel on top of a coffee pot, she hovers the kettle in circles above the set-up while pouring out a steady stream of steaming water. Soon enough, dark liquid emerges to drip down from the cloth, slowly filling the container.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perez raises her eyebrows, looking impressed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess you can,” she considers out loud. “And if you’re known for anything, it’s your tenacity.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, what brings you here?” Jen asks as she returns the kettle on the cooling stove. She sits across from Perez, watching the water level in the funnel fall. “Although I know it’s a little pointless to ask that. Nobody really gets brought here as much as they stumble upon this place in the middle of fucking nowhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh,” Perez replies, deadpan as always. Jen finds herself a little shy at her words— Perez did always tell her that she’s got an odd poetic streak and she wonders if it’s gotten worse around Judy. Still, she figures there’s something a little more <em>human</em> in the fact that Perez ignores Jen’s question, instead, offering her own. “When did she start resting?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Last night.” Jen answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So she’ll wake up in a week? Or two?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Later, actually. When the sun rises.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perez looks at her, questioning. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She still as energetic as ever?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As ever,” Jen says, fondly, can’t help the smile that climbs onto her face. “Maybe even more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s,” Perez starts, looking at Jen carefully, maybe slightly unbelieving, “pretty impressive. Amazing, actually. With only hours of sleep?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen shrugs, “She likes to keep a circadian rhythm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The expression on Perez’ face says that the fact doesn’t explain anything at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Ana. Are you still a Dr. Perez? Or a Judge Perez, like before? Or Her Majesty Queen Perez— that was fun wasn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perez looks at her thoughtfully before answering, “It was.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I liked Detective Perez the best, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>You two</em>,” she starts, shaking her head but Jen sees the fond grin on her face. “You sure gave me a lot of trouble back then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen returns Perez smile with her own, allowing herself to reminisce. It’s an odd kind of voyage, her own memories, like sailing through a dark ocean where everything has dissolved into one another and it takes a certain jostling for something to rise up into a wave, for it to be solid enough to hit the hull of her recognition. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Shit.</em> Maybe she does have a poetic streak.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you gonna pour that out?” Perez asks, eyebrows raised at the hand-drip set-up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, right. Fuck,” Jen responds, snapping out of her thoughts to remove the funnel on top and put it on the sink.  Perez pours coffee for the both of them on the mugs Jen left on the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s <em>Mayor</em> <em>Perez</em>, by the way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s Jen’s turn to look surprised.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re starting one again? The whole civilization thing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess I am,” she replies straightforwardly. “That’s actually why I’m here. I’m wondering if you’d like to stay there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t look at me like that. Of course I know that Judy comes with,” Perez says. “We could use the both of you actually, we’ve just about finished the power lines but we’re trying to create a more efficient energy plant.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh wow, that’s much further along than I imagined.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, I know you have experience in this, Jen,” Perez says, taking a sip of her coffee. “And Judy is <em>very strong</em>. We could use some keeping order.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen takes her own slow sip of the drink, letting the last sentence ring in her mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I try not to make her work so hard anymore. Especially work like that,” Jen answers simply, and Perez leans back against the chair, like she understands the implicit refusal in her words. Maybe even expected it. Jen feels grateful for that. “So this thing you’re building, it’s with humans?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course,” Perez replies like it’s obvious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ana, I don’t know how you keep doing it,” Jen says softly. “Creating this whole thing and gifting it to them. Then you just stand back and watch as they eventually tear it to the ground?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perez’ jaw clenches, not out of offense it seems, but just from deep thinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sometimes,” she sighs. “I feel like that’s the point.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jen wonders from who exactly she might have picked up her poetic streak from.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the sun rises and Judy sulkily enters the kitchen demanding why Jen wasn’t in bed, her mood quickly gets turned around at the sight of their guest. She easily jumps into the part of a perfect host and engages Perez in extended conversation, which actually gets sustained by her asking questions about Perez’ current project.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perez doesn’t repeat the invite to Judy, which Jen feels grateful for, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks for the hospitality,” Perez nods at Judy as she stands by the door, ready to leave. She turns to Jen, slight smile on her face. “And for the very good coffee.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judy squeals in delight, squeezing Jen’s hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Jen watches her walk away, figure disappearing in the haze of the early morning, she can’t help but feel a little guilty at the fading memories of one of her oldest comrade. They probably have centuries’ worth of experiences together but Jen only remembers the vaguest outlines of them. Something that is mostly made up of inexplicable feelings and odd, cosmic truths mixed in with a few, objective facts. But maybe what manages to remain is the point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still, in the dark sea of her memories, it’s always Judy that glows fluorescent, like bright islands where she can dock the ship of her mind. To feel the ground on her feet, to bask in the sun, and rest easy, forever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! </p>
<p>A bonus (cause these had a bunch of qrt bonuses):</p>
<p>6.6</p>
<p>Jen: So, Jude. Was I a good person or a bad person? Back then, I mean.<br/>Judy: Mm. You’ve helped a lot of people, Jen.<br/>Jen: I’m sure I’ve hurt a lot, too.<br/>Judy: *softly* Yeah, you did.<br/>Jen: ... so which one is it?<br/>Judy: *laughs* You know that it doesn’t matter, babe.<br/>Jen: I mean. Why not?<br/>Judy: Because the people you’ve helped and the people you’ve hurt are all gone now. </p>
<p>Jen: I feel like I was the one who told you that...<br/>Judy: So she does remember. </p>
<p>And,</p>
<p>Inspos:<br/>•	Yokohama Kaidashi Kiko by Hitoshi Ashinano<br/>•	Sousou Frieren by Yamada Kanehito<br/>•	Woman World by Aminder Dhaliwal (tnx @patsydecline)<br/>•	Nature reclaims/Cottage core/Urban Explorations<br/>•	Art and Lies by Jeanette Winterson<br/>•	Stardew Valley lol<br/>•	The Laughing Vampire by Maruo Suehiro<br/>•	A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>